Juice

by Nako

  Before she could tell her that she didn’t care, a voice was heard in the background of the call, “Momma, I peed!”

  The line went extremely silent, almost as if the phone was muted.

  Tia felt a surge of jealousy shoot through her body.

  “Tia?” her mother returned.

  “You have kids?” she questioned, as if she hadn’t been born of her mother’s womb.

  “Tia…I would love for us to really talk. It’s so much we need to resolve.”

  She wasn’t trying to hear none of that.

  “How about you start with answering my question?”

  Her mom knew that they were off to a bad start.

  “I remarried…and yes, I have two children. Your sister is eleven and my husband slipped and got me pregnant, can you believe I have a three-year-old son,” she giggled. Tia heard the joy in her voice.

  Joy of being a mother.

  Happiness.

  She was happily married.

  Her life was great.

  Tia wanted to tell her what the lack of her presence had done to her throughout her childhood.

  She could’ve shared with her that she had communication issues. That her heart used to be cold. That she struggled in her personal relationships due to the actions of a mother who never wanted her in the first place. A mother that picked her up like a toy whenever she had male company. A mother that was more concerned with a green dollar bill than her child. A mother who… had to see her on the got damn news to find her phone number. A mother who didn’t even have her phone number.

  So much could be said.

  Yet, the only thing she said was, “I am so happy for you.” Then the line clicked.

  Tia hung up and stormed out of the coffee shop, leaving Rich Bitch, behind.

  Fresh air was needed.

  She needed to breath.

  Those damn panic and anxiety attacks were becoming the devil.

  She called Juice. He was her good energy.

  Although, still mad at him, she knew that he could talk to her. He knew how to calm her down with his soothing voice and perfect choice of words.

  He would hype her up and she’ll be able to still enjoy the remainder of her day.

  Her mom called back four times in the midst of her trying to get her lover on the phone. Forcing Tia to scream out loud.

  Juice didn’t pick up.

  Tia knew that she had to be done. When a man wanted you, there wasn’t anything that could keep them away. Not a motherfucking thing. Juice probably did really care about her. She kinda knew that he loved her, and the crazy thing was that he did show her. His actions were constant, but there was a wall. A block. Something was holding him up from really going full-throttle and she was aware of what it was. Tia wasn’t no fool and thankfully, he never lied to her about what the hell was going on. However, she wasn’t no side bitch and waiting around on him when she knew that she deserved consistency and a man that was all hers. A nigga that she didn’t have to share. Tia wasn’t into compromising when she didn’t have to. She knew her worth, she knew what she brought to the table and baby girl was not a teacher nor was she a tape recorder. She wasn’t built to keep reminding him that she was the one. She was sick of being there for him, showing up for him and whenever she needed him, he wasn’t there. Juice was good at making her feel like they were partners. He coated his broken promises and lies in sugar and honestly, she was over it.

  η

  Juice got Faai’s wheelchair out of the trunk, re-assembled it quickly, then wheeled it to the passenger side of his whip and helped her into her chair.

  “You smell good,” he told her after getting a whiff of her perfume.

  She wasn’t comfortable with being out in public, but he insisted on her being his date to dinner at Mahogany’s tonight. Porter reached out two days after he stormed out of the office at YQ.

  Juice thought about not responding back, but out of respect for Porter, he told him that he and his girl would be there.

  “I’m sure it’s something you bought.”

  What she wanted to say was that she preferred to wear her essential oils, but she was aware that he loved the smell of Jo Malone on her skin.

  “Thanks,” her response was dry, and Juice didn’t even bother to acknowledge it.

  He wheeled her up the front steps of their place and then stopped.

  “Now, how the hell I’ma do this…” he mumbled.

  This is why Faaizah didn’t leave the house. Every location wasn’t accessible.

  She smacked her lips, “Take me home.”

  She was tripping.

  “I’m not taking you home, give me a second…”

  He hiked the chair up at the same time the front door opened.

  “Why didn’t you tell us you were pulling up. P bought this thing to get the chair up. Hold on,” Mahogany told him before walking off.

  Faaizah muttered under her breath, “She didn’t speak.”

  He wasn’t in the mood for this shit tonight.

  “Did you give her a chance?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ma just shut up,” she told him.

  What Juice wanted to say was, “Yeah, do that.”

  But he didn’t.

  Porter returned and used some sliding thing to help Juice wheel Faai into the house safely.

  “See, babe you’re in,” he said with excitement. What Juice didn’t want was for his sweetheart to become comfortable in her comfort zone. Greatness was often find when you stepped out of what made you comfortable. He needed her to get back into the swing of things. Tonight, was a great start.

  She forced herself to share a smile with him, although not sharing his sentiments.

  “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Faaizah, it’s so good to see you!” Mahogany announced as she returned to the foyer.

  “Hey.”

  They never clicked. Mahogany tried though, and he wished he could say the same for his fiancée. Juice wheeled her into the living room. He was quite familiar with the layout of their home. He’d more spent time here than his own place.

  Porter and Mahogany sat on one couch and Juice slid across from them on the loveseat after he made sure Faaizah was comfortable.

  This was going to be an awkward dinner date. He could feel it already.

  “Where the kids at?”

  Porter answered, “Movies with the nanny. We needed a break.”

  Juice would have his kids tomorrow and was looking for it. He missed his lil’ bad buts.

  “I feel you.”

  Faaizah toyed with the jewelry on her hands and wrists and Mahogany scrolled through her phone. Porter and Juice changed the subject to something easy to talk about…what all men loved. Sports.

  The chef walked into the living room to let the man of the home know that dinner was ready to be served. “Mr. Bavay, everything is plated.”

  Porter tapped his wife on the inside of her thigh, “Ready to eat, baby?”

  She nodded her head, staring intensely into his eyes with what may looked like love, but Juice knew she was nervous. While on the other hand, P was cool, calm and collected. He’d most likely told her to let him lead the conversation and hopefully be able to resolve the issue. But, there wouldn’t be no fixing this nor could it be swept under the rug. Juice was adamant about doing his own thing. His time as Mahogany’s manager had come to an end. Abruptly.

  They followed them into the formal dining room.

  “She wanted Mexican food, hope that’s cool with you.”

  Juice nodded his head. He was high and hungry and would eat the food regardless.

  Faaizah was expecting lobster risotto, shrimp and scallops or something of that nature. These were rich folks, eating some damn tacos. She was disappointed.

  He moved the chair out of the way and pushed her chair against the table.

  “Close enough?”

  She nodded her head.

  Juice took the seat next to her and they all dug in. Everyone res
pectfully said their own grace. Christians on one side and Muslims on the other.

  Dinner was eaten in silence and once the chef brought a platter of churros out for dessert, Porter cleared his throat.

  “Juice, I wanted us to chop it up about what happened the other day at the office. I think…”

  He looked at his wife before continuing.

  “A conversation should’ve taken place as soon as the Netflix deal became an option because we’d been talking about venturing into film.”

  Juice hated to be the, “I made that shit happen,” type of nigga but it was true.

  “It was my idea to turn the concert into a documentary. I found the connect to Netflix. I flew out there and had the meeting. I spent hours on conference calls. I did research. I got the budget together…”

  Mahogany cut him off, “Yeah, everything that you’re supposed to do. It’s like lately you want extra praise, or shall I say PAY for what you’re supposed to do. Juice, you’re my manager. You was supposed to handle that. I’m married with three fucking kids, on top of attempting to stay the hottest thing out here,” she snapped. Her anger boiled over and out.

  Porter took a deep breath. Juice could see his arm reaching under the table, most likely to calm her down and hush her.

  “Regardless of what you think or feel, extra praise or pay wasn’t needed. In fact, it still isn’t. However, I deserve that EP credit. It was my idea. Are you not going to acknowledge that?” He really wanted to know if she was suffering from amnesia.

  “How can we get past this?” Porter questioned.

  Juice felt as if it was pretty simple. “Give me the EP credit.”

  Mahogany shook her head, “I’m sorry, that’s not happening. I never took you for a nigga that cared about clout.”

  Faaizah snorted which blew Juice.

  “Clout? What is going on with you?” the questions fired from his mouth rapidly.

  Porter tried again to diffuse the situation, “Let’s try and figure something out.”

  Juice was over it at this point.

  “I stopped what I was doing. My fiancée was stuck in bed-”

  Faaizah interrupted, “Jihad.” She didn’t want her business spilled out onto the table.

  “Nah…” He shook his head before continuing, “I left my fiancée at home and came to Cali for weeks. Weeks to get your shit in order. What concept did you use? The one I came up with,” he reminded her.

  Mahogany didn’t want to hear that shit. “Juice, keep it a buck okay? You didn’t wanna be there with her ass no way.”

  Porter scolded her, “Too fuckin’ far.” He hated when she said shit that was out of the way.

  Juice stood up abruptly, ending their conversation, “Thanks for dinner.”

  They left rather quickly. Juice drove in silence with the windows down. He gave his all to Mahogany. All his ducks were in her basket. No lie, he was hurt. Incredibly taken aback by her words and actions. Her nonchalant attitude and demeanor that was showed towards him caused him to wonder what the fuck did he do to deserve that from her.

  Porter was caught in a difficult position and Juice understood it.

  They didn’t say goodbye, nor did they walk them out. When he closed the front door, he heard Mahogany snapping on him.

  “You want to know why none of your friends and family like me?”

  He didn’t want to hear this shit from her.

  “Not tonight.”

  Faaizah turned to him. “It’s because you don’t like me, and they know it.”

  Tears fell from her eyes and down her face. He couldn’t comfort her. Juice was in pain his damn self.

  “I don’t have to be with you. I don’t need you,” she blurted out.

  He took his eyes off the road asking, “What were you doing in PA?”

  She shot him a look that caused his soul to stir, and not in a good way.

  “Does it fucking matter?”

  Faaizah clearly was feeling herself tonight with all the cursing.

  “…According to your BOSS, you don’t care about me no way.”

  η

  Unfortunately, he was one of those niggas that knew he had money. He was aware of the fact that he made a lot of dough but didn’t keep up with his balances. Juice just knew that the shit was there and without a doubt when he swiped his card, the screen would always say “Approved.”

  However, his next move had to be his best move and because he’d already made it up in his mind that the chapter had closed on being Mahogany’s manager, it was do or die at this point.

  Juice knew that moral support was important and because he wasn’t sure if he wanted Faaizah all in his business like that, he flew Ma Dukes out to hold his hand.

  “Look at you, coming through with the floral.”

  He laid the compliments on heavy. His mom was a beauty and she downplayed it all the time.

  “Juice, boy come get this door. We’re late,” she tried her hardest not to blush as she stepped onto the sidewalk.

  He kissed her on the cheek.

  “Ma, he’s a buddy of mine. We’re good.”

  Juice wore slacks and a Polo button down shirt. His cut was fresh, and he was feeling optimistic yet nervous at the same time.

  Like the late and great, Nipsey Hussle used to say, “All money in, no money out.”

  It was time for him to get his ducks in order and make his dreams come true. He wasn’t a careless spender and for the most part he believed that he did what was best with his money, but he also had a lot of responsibilities. Juice was the primary caretaker for all his kids and their mothers. He paid taxes. He was a law-abiding citizen. He didn’t think he spent a lot of money, but today would tell it.

  “You nervous?” his momma asked him once they got on the elevator.

  He shook his head, “Nah, but if he tells me I need to scale back, I’ll need to decide what that means and what has to be cut off. Ya know?”

  She remained silent, more than likely processing what her baby said.

  “It’s right here, to the left,” he told her, once the elevator dinged and he stepped aside to let her go before him.

  “Mr. Williams! The man with the plan,” Juice announced their arrival by speaking loudly to his accountant.

  Donald was a little flamboyant something but was good at what he did, and Juice trusted his opinion and him with his money.

  “Always a pleasure to see you. Come on back, I’ve got everything laid out.”

  Donald stopped and noticed that Juice wasn’t alone.

  “Ooh, bay-bee forgive me,” his Louisiana accent was heavy. It reminded him of talking to Tia. His baby.

  “Juice, who is this young thing you have with you?” he pulled in his mother for a hug.

  She was cheesing up something serious.

  “My momma, she wanted to come with me. Accounting degree and all of that,” he filled him in.

  She hugged him back. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Oh, well perfect. You can sit right next to me.”

  They entered a small room with a round table and a few chairs. Manila folders and print-outs were on one side of the table.

  “Am I in good shape or do I need to get a night job?” Juice joked.

  Donald slid his glasses onto his face and sat down, crossing his legs to expose a pair of polka dot pink socks.

  “Surprisingly…”

  Juice’s heart began to beat…he didn’t know what this man was about to say.

  “You can fully fund your label, no hand-outs needed. When we talked last week, I mentioned you getting a business loan since your credit is good, but you don’t even need that. I’m going to set it up where you’ll be an employee of your new business for tax purposes.”

  Juice was elated, yet, had more questions. “I’m good to pay for everything and still live the exact same lifestyle that I’ve been living?” he wanted to be sure.

  Donald nodded his head, affirming, “I don’t see why not.”

  “What a
bout the properties that he has? Are they doing well? Should he sell them?”

  The rental houses were more for his mom than him. She was the one that saw about them and recouped the money. Plus, she needed something to keep her busy.

  His accountant removed his glasses. “Are you in trouble or something?” he only probed because Juice seemed alarmed and his momma sounded worried.

  “No…why you ask me that?”

  “Because you’re not broke. You’re actually nowhere near it.”

  Juice didn’t think he was on his last twenty dollars, but at the same time, he really wasn’t sure what he was working with.

  “Let me say it like this. If you wanted to open up a label, buy an island, and get your mom ten more properties, I can guarantee it won’t put a dent into any of your accounts. Personal or business.”

  His mom thanked God loudly.

  Juice wiped a few beads of sweat that formed on his forehead.

  “How much money do you think you have?” Donald questioned.

  Foolishly, he shrugged his shoulders.

  “I trust you. Always have. Porter told me about you years ago and my money has been in your care ever since.”

  His mother scolded, “I’ve also been telling him that he needs to always keep an eye on his money. I check the balance of my card every single day.”

  Juice’s accountant searched through the files on the table. He put his glasses back on and used a red pen to help him find the number he was looking for.

  “Okay…as of the 10th, which was three days ago, altogether… you know we separated a few things for long-term financial stability but combined you have about eleven million dollars. In real estate, the properties that you bought two years ago have doubled in worth. Your stocks are up, all the way up. You, young man...are doing great,” Donald told him with a smile.

  Juice heard him loud and clear. He interpreted the message as a clear sign for him to step out on faith and start his record label. Not another day could be wasted doing something that no longer held his interest. Dinner with the Bavay’s was the final straw and sign that he needed to start a new chapter of his life. Juice’s next stop was to speak with his mentor and hopefully they could maintain their relationship outside of Mahogany.